


Behind the Mirror

by LazyCatLad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Not Romance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scary, Trauma, but like a bit scary like nothing actually bad happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyCatLad/pseuds/LazyCatLad
Summary: To wander, and see what waits in the dark... Harry takes a walk in the Forbidden Forest. He doesn't know why, nor how he got there. He just knows to follow a mysterious voice, and that he isn't, not really, in the Forbidden Forest.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 7





	Behind the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've almost made no fanfiction so far, and I work better on one-shots, so this is probably the last you'll ever hear of me in the Harry Potter fandom. I still wanted to share this thing that went through my mind.  
> I'm dealing with a lot at the moment and being able to write this story is allowing me to get rid of some demons. I hope you'll find in it the same strength and comfort that it is giving me.
> 
> btw : I'm not a Harry/Ginny shipper, nor am I a shipper of any sort, I just used Ginny in this as she's supposed to be the closest to Harry as an adult and I wanted him to be accompanied by his significant other... If you believe Harry should end up with someone else, you're free to imagine someone else in Ginny's role here, I really don't mind.
> 
> Also : I'm not a native English speaker! If you see something that seems wrong to you, please, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll correct it! Thank you in advance.

No night had been as dark as this one. Yet, light was filtering through the trees easily. It was almost as if the woods were black, had always been black. Leaves, trunks, branches, bushes alike. The moonlight made them shine despite their gloomy nature. The fireflies didn't make any sound. Looking down, it was as if one could float right above the ground, which only looked like a distant void. The Forbidden Forest had never looked quite like this, and that made Harry realize he wasn't really in the Forbidden Forest.

“Am I dreaming?” he asked aloud. He wasn't able to remember his own age, the place where he'd fallen asleep.  
“Yes,” a familiar voice echoed around him.  
“Am I dead?” he inquired, not afraid of the question : he was in that state one sometimes gets into in a dream. Nothing felt consequential, so he only wondered out of curiosity.  
The voice chuckled. “Not yet, Harry. Not now.”

Harry started walking. The tracks were the same as he remembered : he could picture where he'd ran away from Aragog, or Remus. There, he'd seen Voldemort for the first time, drinking the blood from that poor unicorn. But the tracks were also different, somehow. Everything felt like a black and white copy, or a meticulous theater set. Looking up, Harry saw that some trees were linked together with fine strings at the top of their trunks. The strings were shiny and white, and seemed made of diamonds. Fascinated, Harry followed the path drawn by the strings.

“They're not strings,” he realized after a while. Something seemed to fall from them, like fragile, shimmering rain.  
“Indeed, they aren't,” the voice replied.  
“They're... They're... Oh.”

The rain thickened, until it wasn't rain. Harry was surrounded by mirrors, showing him a way deeper and deeper into the forest. He was in a tunnel, and the only way was forward.

“I already know what this is,” Harry said, and he was angry. He had already seen the mirror of Erised, a long, long time ago. He did not need to face his desires anymore. He had grown enough to know none of them could ever come true.  
“Then you shouldn't be afraid to walk through it?” the voice answered. If Harry had thought this might have been Dumbledore, he didn't think it was anymore. The voice was too kind, too soft. The voice made him feel too safe to be his former mentor.

Something like a hand gently squeezed his shoulder. Harry felt like crying, but didn't. Instead, he started walking through the tunnel.  
At first, he didn't see anything. All he realized was that, in this dream, he was a child. He looked eleven or ten, maybe even younger than he was when he'd learned about Hogwarts and his magic. He looked thin, pale, sickly. Abused and torn and far too close to death for a child. He looked at himself with severity, like a cold father would tell his son to suck it up since life was unfair anyways.

He kept walking. But his face gained color. He was less miserable, more well-dressed, with a clean haircut and proper glasses on his nose. Harry wasn't scrawny anymore – by Merlin, he was chubby, like Dudley was at his age, and he kept growing. Harry kept walking, and Lily walked by his side. And James, and Sirius. Harry froze for a moment, just a short while.

In this simple image, he knew everything of that life that had never been. At age eleven, he was a far better wizard with his parents by his sides. He got a younger sibling, with which he faught and laughed all the time, like the Weasleys did. In Hogwarts, he became immediately popular, and not in a creepy, pressuring way. He got lots of friends, different ones, too. Never feared his teachers, never had to fight a war either.

Harry started walking again. Faster.

He got older with each passing mirror. The more he walked, the less he recognized the Harry in the mirror. That happy boy, healthy boy, who only got to be like any kid of his age, became a sportsman. He became a Quidditch champion because there was no evil force to fight anymore. He never got close to either Ron nor Hermione. He thrived. He loved. He didn't know about death.

Mirror Harry got to spend his last year in Hogwarts. Nothing got destroyed, nobody died. His younger siblings celebrated with him. He was tall and strong, he'd never gone through malnutrition. There was no scar on his body, on his face. Harry collapsed to the ground, hands on his ears, eyes shut. His heart was racing in his chest in a way that made him want to vomit.

“Stop it, please,” Harry asked, formal and dignified even as he begged. 

After a moment, two soft hands touched his shoulders. Harry looked up. He didn't recognize the shape in front of him. They looked like an angel, all white and gleaming, emanating such comforting warmth. Harry collapsed into the creature's arms, abandoning himself. The embrace took such a heavy weight off his shoulders. He had grown. He was an adult again, now.

“I apologize, my love,” the voice said in a sorry whisper. “I didn't mean to cause you so much pain.”

Harry finally realized, and looked into the angel's eyes. He smiled, laughed, and used his hands to dry off Ginny's cheeks. Her brown eyes were filled with tears, leaking on her face. She looked devastated, so, he kissed her face to soothe her.

“It's okay, darling,” he murmured. “I survived, didn't I?”  
“I thought I would help you,” she said, holding onto him like onto dear life. “But I just...”

They stopped moving. Someone was standing in the mirror, looking at them. Mirror Harry looked at the true Harry like he was waiting for him, a soft, patient smile on his face.

“What... What is happening?” Ginny asked, confused. This wasn't part of their plan. Harry stood. His reflection put his hand on the mirror, and waited.  
“I'll be right back,” Harry murmured. He touched the other's hand.

As soon as he did, there was no light anymore. No forest. No illusion. Harry didn't even hear Ginny scream his name.

“If you had the choice,” Harry's own voice spoke, but it wasn't Harry who was speaking. “If you could live this life, out of war, out of pain, with the family that you deserved like anybody else. If you could start again... Would you?”

Harry felt numb. His body didn't exist, wherever he was. Only a strange hand, exactly like his own, was laying flat against his palm.

“Is this an offer?” he asked with a bite in his tone.  
“You've seen the possibilities,” the reflection replied, smug and self-assured. “Anything can be done with the right kind of magic.”

Harry laughed, a bark of a laughter. Why was his own image making him so furious?

“You're offering me a life without pain?”  
“Yes,” the other answered.  
“You're a liar,” he cut him off.

The reflection did not reply for a moment, before he corrected himself:

“I'm offering you a life with less pain.”  
“None of the hardship I'll have in your life will compare to the one I've already had, that is for sure. But I won't know that. I won't know I was spared. What about Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny? And Luna, and Neville, and Fred, George? All those who have suffered and died. Why would they deserve less than me to be spared?”

The reflection went silent.

“You can't suppress war and death. They happen. All around the globe, people die and leave children behind, every day. You're offering me the choice to ignore that reality, a choice I never had. Because I was a direct victim of war from my earliest years, and never ceased to be.”  
“You would be happier.”  
“I would be more ignorant. In your life, you never laid eyes on the strange Muggleborn girl. The one who worked so hard to be accepted and successful. On the badly dressed, awkward redhead boy coming from a dishonored family. On his even more awkward little sister. On the lonely, strange, barely adapted to the real world Luna and Neville. Who had faced death, like me, far too soon.”

Slowly, Harry felt his body come back. His limbs were getting out of their sleep as he kept talking. 

“I would love to sleep better at night. To introduce my children to their grandparents. I dreamt of getting real gifts for my childhood birthdays. I envied Ron with everything I had for his family. But for this, I've made friends. Stronger, better, more reliable friends than you ever could have. I've met Ginny. I've protected people from a war that was inevitable, no matter how you pretend you could make it go away with a snap of your fingers.”

Harry grasped the reflection's hand against his, and squeezed hard. Mirror Harry grunted in the dark.  
“Let go of me,” a threatening tone replied to him, breathing heavily, close to his own face.  
“You're a con,” Harry insisted. His other hand found the reflection's neck in the dark. Pushed down, pressed. They were slipping into an abyss. “You're a liar, and a thief. You want to take my memories, my past, my pride. You're haunting me every night, pretending there could have been something else. That I am a broken version of you. But you are the broken version of me. You're me without struggle, empathy, courage. You're me without the love of my life.”

As they fell, they both tried to scrape each other's skin, tear each other's throat open.

“Never come back again,” Harry hissed. They hit the ground.  
Or at least, if they didn't, that's what it felt like. At the exact moment Harry opened his eyes.

His breathing was ragged, and he sat up way too fast. He was dizzy, felt like he'd just ran a marathon. He was still disorientated, getting used to the light and the feeling of fitting into a real, tangible space. Ginny immediately went to hold him, calling his name, looking terrified.

“Where were you?” she asked, frantic. “I lost you. You disappeared. You weren't waking up, I thought, I thought... Oh, Merlin, are you okay?”

Harry slowly remembered. He wasn't sleeping enough lately, subject to anxiety attacks, spiralling into another episode. They had agreed to let Ginny try hypnosis, to lead Harry somewhere where he could face his demons. And they had arrived here.

“I'm fine,” Harry replied. He looked at her, considered what he had said. Something felt different. Something new, like he was the tiniest bit stronger, in a way that changed everything.

Harry smiled: “I really am.”


End file.
